


Indecent

by Mackem



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth be told, Aramis is more than willing to kiss any of those people. He’s never seen the point in placing limits on himself, and all of these people offer the promise of a new experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indecent

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to fill the following [lovely prompt](http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/774.html?thread=366598#cmt366598) on the [Musketeers Kink Meme](http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/), which is certainly not a place I seem to spend all my time nowadays, nope.
> 
>  
> 
> _Aramis/Porthos Part of a campaign where strangers kiss: Y'all have seen the video right? Where strangers get to make out? I just want first impressions and kissing, and there can be other pairings in there too!_
> 
>  
> 
> Obviously this is based on this [adorable short film](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpbDHxCV29A), though I'll be honest, I've spent more time thinking about [the Vice version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLKmr_aI5rg). They're staged, of course, but WAY too adorable a concept for my mind to let go of.
> 
> Beta provided by my lovely [canistakahari](http://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari) because she is full-on amazing, always. Any mistakes left are all my own work! Naturally, I don't own The Musketeers, which is probably for the best, because I've got a job, man, I can't sit around staring at them _all_ day.

Today, Aramis thinks, is shaping up to be highly entertaining.

He's waiting in line to order breakfast at his favourite cafe, trying to decide whether it would be completely indecent to order waffles before eleven a.m. - probably, but Aramis and indecent go together hand-in-hand - when he first feels eyes upon him.

This is not unusual. Aramis is no stranger to the kind of appraising, lascivious gaze he’s getting from the striking woman peering at him through the cafe window; that she keeps looking from him to her clipboard and back is more unusual. He gives her a smile and a vague wave, and decides to just see what happens. 

On the one hand, she’s beautiful, and he would welcome her company. 

On the other, people with clipboards tend to want money or information, and Aramis is disinclined to provide either.

He’s advanced two places in the queue before she decides to approach. The bright jingle of the bell above the door does not drown out the grumbles she gets as she pushes her way through the queue to stand with him.

“Excuse me, monsieur,” she says, batting her eyelashes as she gives him a decidedly saucy smile. “My name is Maria. I don't suppose you’d be interested in a quick snog?”

Aramis laughs instinctively. Direct, but not even close to the most interesting proposition he has ever received. 

Nevertheless… 

“I am Aramis, mademoiselle, and you have my attention,” he smiles. He indicates the clipboard with a small gesture. He may as well just ask, if there’s a chance it will avoid whatever spiel she has prepared to separate him from what scant money he has. “Is this for marketing purposes?”

Maria laughs as if this is the wittiest thing anybody has ever said. “Oh, not with _me_ ,” she says, giving him a look that manages to suggest she would like nothing more. She lays a hand at his arm, stroking and squeezing flirtatiously, as if she is terribly impressed by his bicep. Aramis smiles indulgently, still wondering what he's being buttered up for.

“I assure you I am generally in favour of kissing, but I’m not certain what you - ” he begins.

“It's for a short film,” Maria interrupts effortlessly, as if taking control of men is her forte. It only makes Aramis more interested. “We're asking people to experience a first kiss with a stranger, while we record their reactions. You happened to catch my eye,” she adds, biting her lower lip for just a moment, as if she would love to be ripping his clothes off. “I saw you and thought, well, who _wouldn't_ want a first kiss with him?”

“You flatter me,” he smiles, allowing just a little swell of pride to his ego. She's laying it on thick, of course, but she still chose _him_ , rather than any of the other people around him. It’s insincere adulation, but Aramis hasn’t even eaten breakfast yet, and he’s not going to deny himself the pleasure of being flattered. 

And pleasure is what this all comes down to. “A kiss for some cameras, you say?” he muses.

“And we'll pay a little fee, of course,” she offers. “Just twenty euros, but it's only a few minutes' work, after all.” Maria grins like a shark. “Are you interested?”

“Can I take your order?” Aramis turns in surprise; he has reached the front of the queue.

“Oh,” Maria adds casually, “we have complimentary tea and coffee, too.”

Aramis laughs. “Mademoiselle, you had me when you mentioned kissing. The payment and free drinks are simply bonuses.”

“Wonderful! Then please, follow me,” Maria says, her manner suddenly much more businesslike. Aramis laughs to himself as the charade of attraction drops like a stone. 

“My apologies for wasting your time,” he says to the barista. He just shrugs and looks past Aramis.

“Next!”

***

Maria leads him to a non-descript building that turns out to be a makeshift studio. He signs a forest's worth of paperwork and ends up herded into a small room, which is steadily filling up with a stream of people. Maria disappears immediately after showing him in; perhaps off to discover new strangers to pimp out.

The coffee, he discovers one regrettable sip in, is hideous. Aramis hastily abandons the cup, fishes some chewing gum from his pocket—never let it be said that he allowed his first kiss with some stranger to taste of sub-par coffee—and props himself against a wall to cast an eye over his companions.

He likes to people-watch. Humanity as a whole fascinates him; he likes to study their faces, their body language, to imagine what personal triumphs and tragedies make up their stories.

The older, bearded man in the centre of the room, for example. He's wearing an understated but expensive suit, and is making absolutely no effort to hide his boredom; the man beside him, with the huge smile and long curls that make him look rather like a spaniel, seems not to have noticed that his conversation is somewhat less sparkling than his flamboyant garb. As Aramis watches the older man strokes his goatee, nodding blankly, and eventually sighs at his watch. The younger man spots this, but seems to take it as an invitation to show off his own, rather flashier, timepiece.

Aramis stifles a chuckle and lets his attention drift elsewhere. His gaze lands on a smaller man, with an overgrown mop of hair, staring morosely into his coffee cup. Aramis thinks he understands his misery - it is truly _atrocious_ coffee - until the man half-turns towards the wall and fishes a hip flask from his pocket. 

He looks from flask to cup and back again, until he seems to feel Aramis’ eyes upon him; he looks up and flushes guiltily. Aramis looks from the chap to the clock on the wall and back again, raising an eyebrow at him. The man shrugs minutely. Aramis offers him a small, understanding smile and the man sighs, shoving the flask back into his pocket with bad grace. Aramis wonders if he’s imagining a slight nod of gratitude, before he looks elsewhere.

His eyes alight upon a brunette across the room, hovering demurely near the spaniel-haired chap. She has doll-like, delicate features, and seems somehow frail, in a way that makes Aramis want to protect her, but there is a proud set to her chin. He realises when their eyes meet that she had already been casting her gaze over him. When he returns the look with a small bow, a blush spreads over her cheeks and she looks away, embarrassed to be caught, but wearing a small, delighted smile.

Yes, Aramis could quite happily kiss her. 

He thinks she would be uncertain, and fragile; soft skin heated beneath the touch of his hand on her cheek, eyes fluttering closed and lips yielding easily to his.

Truth be told, Aramis is more than willing to kiss any of those people. He’s never seen the point in placing limits on himself, and all of these people offer the promise of a new experience. 

Aramis lets his eyes dart between his fellow participants as he lets his imagination run riot. Would he taste repressed passion along with alcohol on the lips of the scruffy fellow? Would a kiss from the older, besuited man be flavoured with the same impatience he currently shows, hurried and businesslike? The icy, dark-haired beauty across the room seems like she would take control and leave marks, while the slim blonde with the feathered skirt seems as if she would tease, and make a partner work for her approval in return.

A brisk clap gets everyone's attention. Maria has swapped one clipboard for another, and stands in front of a door, wearing a dark smile. “Okay, people, if I could have your attention?” she demands, with no trace of her flirtatious teasing left. “With your help and co-operation, this will all be very simple. Listen for your name. When you hear it, report to me and we'll get this over and done with. No mess, no fuss. Any questions?” she asks, in a voice that suggests the answer should be no.

A younger man, however, raises his hand. “Er, yeah?”

“Fire away,” says Maria, her polite smile fixed in place despite the impatience in her tone.

The boy runs a hand through his long hair and gives the woman beside him a decidedly heated glance. Aramis immediately thinks what a beautiful couple they would make; him, with his striking, handsome features and the look of complete adoration in his eyes, and her, with the sweetness of her face and the way she looks at him like he is to be cherished. The two of them are adorably flushed and bright-eyed. Aramis grins indulgently at them, relishing the opportunity to watch love at first sight unfold before him. “Are we allowed to pick who we kiss?”

“Don't be silly,” Maria scoffs, her smile becoming a wicked smirk. “That would take all the fun out of it!”

The boy seems disappointed, but the woman beside him just shrugs. Aramis is close enough to hear her murmur, “So give me your phone number, in case we don't get each other. They can hardly stop us kissing _after_ , can they!” His fumbled struggle to extract his phone from the clutches of tight jeans leaves Aramis chuckling.

“Anyone else? Good,” Maria says, and glances down at her clipboard. “Let’s have Messieurs Richlieu and Treville.” 

The grey-haired gentleman wastes no time escaping the excitable man bouncing at his heels, while from across the room, a man with a proud, upright bearing that hints at a military background seems relieved to walk away from a prattling man with a dark goatee. Aramis smiles as the military gentleman holds open the door, allowing the grey-haired man to sweep through it with a sardonic smile. 

“Many thanks,” he offers almost as an afterthought, his tone clipped. The other man smiles wryly to himself.

The door closes behind them. Aramis cannot help but be disappointed; he would like to be able to witness the proceedings

They don't keep him waiting long for his turn. After those two gentlemen, Maria calls for Louis and Anne, the fragile beauty who had settled her hesitant gaze on him; Aramis is slightly disappointed to see her go, especially when Louis turns out to be the spaniel-haired chatterbox in love the sound of his own voice. Her hopeful smile is met by a decidedly underwhelmed expression, which leaves Aramis bristling on her behalf. He does not even know her, and yet already he suspects she deserves more than Louis.

Still, it wouldn't do to appear jealous, so Aramis schools his features into neutrality. Anne turns to look at him before she follows Louis through the doors; which, he notices, he does not even hold for her, leaving Aramis despairing at his manners. _He_ would treat her like a queen. He offers Anne a reassuring smile, and is glad to see her manage a tiny quirk of her lips in return.

Some minutes after that, the door opens and they all hear the words, “I didn't know he'd be such a _diva_ , did I!” before Maria reappears. She fusses with her hair neurotically before giving them all a stern look. “Might I remind you that we are here to film a first kiss,” she says heavily, “and thus are in no way obligated to allow you to 'have another go’', no matter how much you whine.” She stares among all of them as they titter, and waits for the amusement to die down before glancing down at her clipboard. “Can we have Constance and Milady... I'm sorry, I can't quite read the handwriting?”

“Milady will suffice,” the icy, dark-haired woman in question purrs. She stalks forward and gives the crowd no option but to part for her, smiling like a lion. Aramis thinks her beautiful, but cold; more than one person among them seems entranced with her. The hand of the scruffy-haired chap darts instinctively towards the pocket with his hip flask when she graces him with a knowing, indulgent smile.

Constance, it seems, is the auburn beauty who has already swapped numbers with the pouting chap beside her. She chuckles at his disconsolate expression, though the slight flush to her cheeks suggests his disappointment has left her inwardly giddy. She squeezes his hand, murmurs, “Meet me as soon as you're done?” and steps away to meet Milady.

Whose eyes gleam at the sight of her. Constance freezes for a moment as Milady reaches out to stroke a curl of her hair with a predatory smile. “Well,” Constance says, voice her eyes glittering, “shall we?” She holds a hand out to Milady, taking the first step through the doors.

“Quite,” Milady agrees, and ignores her hand in favour of sliding a proprietary arm around her waist. Constance lets herself be pulled closer, her cheeks pink as she smiles. Milady grins at her in return, her mouth twisting into a sharp curve. “So pretty,” she murmurs as she gently guides Constance away.

Aramis shivers.

He entertains himself by picturing their kiss, and is so lost in his thoughts that the next thing he knows, his name is being called. “Aramis!”

“Here,” he says in return, offering a charming smile as he moves forward. He abandons his chewing gum to a bin as Maria nods, and adds, “Porthos.”

Aramis turns, and sees his stranger step out from a nook in the corner of the room.

He is _beautiful_. He could almost be the dictionary reference for the phrase, “tall, dark, and handsome.”

He wears black jeans, boots, and a leather jacket which lies open over his shirt, the v-neck deep enough to give a teasing hint of chest hair. He's not that much taller than Aramis, but he's far broader, muscled enough that Aramis is already wondering how it would feel to be pinned helplessly beneath all that strength. Or perhaps to pin him down _despite_ it. 

Really, Aramis would accept any option.

Beneath the facial hair, Aramis can see a broad smile, and dark eyes sparkling with mischief as they run over Aramis. He grins in return, basking in the obvious once-over he's getting, and makes a point of smirking, allowing just the barest hint of tongue to show as he wets his lips. The man's grin darkens at the sight of it. “Aramis,” he offers, holding out a hand. It is clasped with calloused fingers more delicately than he would have imagined; this man, he thinks speculatively, may be strong, but he is no brute.

“Porthos,” he says in return, and Aramis is pleased to find an arm thrown over his shoulder so he can be drawn into an embrace. Aramis is shamelessly tactile; he moves closer and squeezes Porthos around the waist, breathing in his scent as he does. He smells fresh, and clean, with an undertone of leather, and something spicy and enticing. Aramis grins into the curve of his neck.

“Gentlemen,” Maria says, ending their embrace, and ushers them through the doors. She leads them to a little studio floor, where a few people await with recording equipment. “Stand over there,” she directs, already walking away. “We'll let you know when we're ready for you.”

“I've never met anybody who was ready for me yet,” Aramis grins, and is delighted when Porthos throws back his head and laughs. It is not the fake, fawning laughter Maria produced earlier; Porthos actually _giggles_ in delight.

“Well, maybe now you have,” he grins in return, eyes sparkling. He looks Aramis up and down again, gaze lingering intimately, and says, “So, I can see why they asked you to do this, but what made you say yes?”

“Is that flattery?” Aramis asks, laughing. 

Porthos just crosses his arms and shakes his head with a chuckle. “I bet you hear enough flattery, don't you? I bet people can't wait to tell you how gorgeous you are, thinking it'll win you over.” When he shrugs it highlights his shoulders in a most appealing manner. “Well, _I_ mean it. I'm not trying to talk you into anything.”

“A shame,” Aramis says lightly, giving Porthos an obvious once-over of his own, “because I could guarantee your success.” Porthos laughs again, and Aramis feels a warm rush of delight flood over him. 

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“But you asked me a question,” Aramis says, and issues a shrug. “Truth be told, I'm here for the fun of it. All I had on my mind this morning was getting breakfast, and instead, I'm getting kissed. What about you?”

“Same, I suppose,” Porthos agrees. “I wouldn't sneeze at the money, but mostly I just thought kissing was a fine way to spend a morning.” He laughs sheepishly, running a hand over his hair. “Didn't realise it was only going to be one kiss.”

“Perhaps it isn't,” Aramis suggests, keeping his voice full of suggestion, and is overjoyed to see Porthos move closer, a lazy smile on his face.

“Maybe not. I guess it depends on whether our first kiss is any good.”

“Oh, I endeavour never to disappoint,” Aramis murmurs, eyes darting down to Porthos' lips. They spread into a smirk rich with promise. “What about you?”

“That sounds like a challenge,” he drawls.

“Always,” Aramis grins.

“Alright, boys!” Maria calls. “We're ready for you!” The two of them move closer as one, both smiling softly at their synchronicity.

“Let the magic begin,” Porthos murmurs, an eyebrow arched in challenge. He wraps an arm around Aramis' waist. “You ready?”

“Born ready,” Aramis assures him, letting Porthos reel him in. He brings a hand up to cup Porthos' cheek, running his thumb teasingly over the corner of his mouth.

Their eyes meet for a moment and they share twin smiles, both giddy and amused, before they lean in close.

Their lips touch and Aramis' eyes close instinctively.

Porthos’ lips are soft, and warm, and remain closed as Aramis initially keeps the kiss chaste. He tilts his chin up to lean into the press of his lips and sets his free hand at Porthos’ waist, heroically resisting the temptation to squeeze his arse. For now.

Their lips move gently for a little while, as soft and innocent as Aramis has ever managed to be, before he decides this is not enough; he needs more from this perfect stranger. His tongue sweeps across Porthos’ lower lip and he yields immediately with a small groan that sends a flood of desire to Aramis’ cock.

If he thinks Porthos is going to be passive, however, he is wrong, and he has never been more glad of it. 

Porthos opens up to him and brings a hand up to tangle in his hair, pulling just hard enough to get Aramis moaning, his fingers digging into the flesh at Porthos’ waist. Porthos huffs softly; Aramis suspects he is being _laughed_ at mid-kiss, which is just sweet enough to make Aramis smile inside. He lets Porthos guide his head back just a little and hold him in place with a firm grip, and in return tightens his fingers on Porthos’ jaw. He can feel the thrum of Porthos’ pulse, and the way it picks up when he guides his tongue into his mouth.

Porthos tastes slightly of terrible coffee, but nobody is perfect.

When they eventually pull apart, breathless and delighted, both move only inches away. Aramis feels his own smile growing at the sight of Porthos’ dizzy grin, and the two of them dissolve into laughter at the same time. Aramis presses his face to Porthos’ broad shoulder and Porthos nuzzles against his hair, both of them laughing at everything and nothing as they wrap their arms around each other and hold on.

“Very nice,” Maria says suddenly, breaking the spell. Aramis raises his head to see her watching them speculatively, her eyes gleaming, and he offers her a salacious wink in return. “All right. Thank you, boys. Now make way for somebody else.”

Aramis steps back, letting his hands fall to his sides, and feels the loss of Porthos’ presence immediately. Porthos gives him a surprisingly shy smile, and Aramis cocks his head towards a quiet corner.

Together they lurk there for a few minutes; Aramis suspects he could legitimately claim to be catching his breath. He has no idea how long the kiss lasted, although he’s _damn_ sure it wasn’t long enough.

Aramis leans unobtrusively against the wall as they watch the camera crew work, and is delighted when Porthos settles alongside him, closer than would normally be considered polite for strangers. Porthos, he realises, does not _feel_ like a stranger. The fact is both strange, and perfect.

“Do you think they'd mind if we lingered for awhile?” Aramis asks, his voice hushed as production staff rush around them.

“Why?” Porthos asks, his own voice a low rumble. Aramis suddenly needs to hear him saying his name in that beautiful way, to hear him beg and plead for his climax, to bask in whatever filth runs through his mind as Aramis moans beneath him. He needs _everything_ from this man.

Porthos nudges him, grinning, and Aramis realises he has been staring. He smirks in return, completely unphased at being caught out. “I’d like to watch everyone else’s efforts,” he explains, nodding back at the waiting room..

“Why would you want to watch a bunch of strangers snogging?” Porthos asks; he shifts closer as somebody rushes past, and Aramis revels in the way he presses himself close, a line of heat against his side. He grins.

“To see who they pair up, for a start. And beyond that - for the romance of it, of course.”

“Romance?” Porthos snorts. He sweeps a hand around the room in a grand gesture, taking in everything; the camera crew, the rather sad, dilapidated table of wilting salad and mostly demolished doughnuts, and Maria arguing with a man over her clipboard. “Where exactly is the romance?”

“Romance is inherent in a project like this!” Aramis claims. “Strangers meeting unexpectedly, sparks flying from first kisses, stars in people’s eyes, the thrill of it all!”

A burly man bustles up to them then, finishing off the remains of a doughnut. He licks his fingers, digs in the pocket of his jeans, and slaps a decidedly sticky twenty euro note into Aramis' hand. “Here you go,” he says, boredom and insincerity spread thick on the words as he does the same to Porthos. “Job well done.”

“So romantic!” Porthos cackles, waving his own note at Aramis as the man walks off. “Yeah, I see it now!”

“I'm disappointed that it's taken you until now,” Aramis sighs, enjoying their bickering. It feels as if they have known each other for years already. “I used my best moves on you.”

“Trust me, I noticed,” Porthos murmurs. The smile on his face is dark and promising. “I can't wait to see it back, to be honest. To see how much of it I've exaggerated to myself.”

“Are you saying it can’t be as good as you remember?” Aramis asks. He moves closer, turning to stand in front of Porthos with a grin. Porthos shrugs, eyes glinting.

“I’m saying, if you’re so keen on _romance_ , that I’m not sure this isn’t all a dream I’m having,” he murmurs, reaching out to snag Aramis by the hand. Aramis runs his thumb teasingly over Porthos’ knuckles, smiling as Porthos guides him closer until he stands between his spread legs. “And that any minute now I’ll wake up and discover this gorgeous stranger I’ve been kissing is a figment of my imagination. That’s what I’m saying. Then I’ll get out of bed, sort out the morning wood I’m sure to have, and finally get myself some breakfast.”

“What a pretty picture you paint,” Aramis chuckles, with a delighted smile. “There may be something in that, you know. Neither of us have eaten yet, and I seem to have unexpectedly come into some money,” he says, holding it up. He grimaces for a moment at the feel of it in his hand. “Some unsettlingly sticky money.”

“Yeah?” Porthos laughs softly, his fingers brushing through his hair. “What are you suggesting?”

“There’s a cafe, not far from here,” Aramis murmurs, leaning in to his touch. “I’m sure we’ve missed breakfast by now, but it would be my pleasure to buy you lunch with my ill-gotten gains, if you’d accept?”

“Gladly,” Porthos beams.

They decide to go with waffles, after all. They are indeed indecent, though no more so than the hand Aramis slides up Porthos’ thigh as he eats. 

Both leave Porthos grinning.


End file.
